


Words and Pictures

by darburst



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-01 17:14:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15147974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darburst/pseuds/darburst
Summary: Bucky finds himself in an art class that he is terrible at and Steve decides to help him out to save his grade





	Words and Pictures

Bucky Barnes is a lot of things, but an artist is not one of them. He’s sitting in a dumbass art class, one that exists solely for graduation. Why do they even require art classes anyways? It’s not like he’s going to ever be at risk of either drawing the perfect fruit basket for his boss or losing his job. 

Bucky’s head is resting on the desk and his leg is shaking under the table. Why did he think it was a good idea to make this his only class on Wednesdays again? When he scheduled it, he thought he could blow it off and basically have a day off. Only problem is he has been doing that all semester, and now there’s only a few weeks left and he hasn’t done jackshit for this class. 

He looks at the drawing that his head’s been resting on. They’re in between projects, so today they’re supposed to be practicing their still life skills. Only problem is... Bucky has no still life skills. His life is never still., he constantly needs to be in motion, and therefore is always fidgeting. He doesn’t have the patience to stare at some bowl of fruit and try to figure out how to make his pencil move the way he wants it to.

Bucky doesn’t work in his pictures, he works in words. His head is constantly swimming in them. He can writes poems or sonnets or songs or essays on anything. He can write metaphors and similes and describe something incredibly mundane in a way that could make someone cry. His power is in words, because words can tell the truth. Bucky prefers the truth, and sometimes in art it’s hard to tell what’s true and what isn’t. 

Bucky sighs in exasperation and puts down his pencil. At least it was obvious that he’s trying to draw an apple. At least, he thinks you can. Maybe it’s just because he’s aware that he’s drawing an apple. 

Bucky looks over at the kid sitting next to him. He’s a shrimp and Bucky wonders if he’s been sitting by him all semester. Given that Bucky’s eyesight is basically above his head, he wouldn’t be surprised if he was and Bucky had never realized it. The kid’s brows are furrowed in concentration and his pencil is moving rapidly across the page. His eyes are glued to the page but Bucky notices that every few seconds he looks up at the bowl they’re supposed to be drawing. 

The kid’s arm is covering the page but Bucky’s tall enough that he can see over it, and… holy shit this kid can draw. Bucky looks at the bowl on the table and the bowl on the page and he does a double take. Somehow, even with just a graphite pencil, the kid’s been able to capture the depth and shadows of the bowl in a way Bucky never would have imagined. No one would question this kid’s apple. 

“Hey,” Bucky says, tapping the kid on his shoulder. He snaps up, his flow broken. He looks around, startled, almost as if he had forgotten other people were in the room. “Oh, sorry to startle you.” 

The kid relaxes as he looks at Bucky. “Oh, hey. Sorry, sometimes I get really focused in my work.”

“It’s no problem. I wouldn’t want to interrupt whatever allows you to do that,” Bucky says, gesturing to his drawing. “You’re incredible.” 

“Oh, it’s nothing,” the kid says, obviously embarrassed by the praise. “I mean. I’m just drawing an apple. It’s not like it’s that difficult.” 

“Speak for yourself,” he holds up his terrible rendering, embarrassed that he was even attempting to draw the same thing as this master. “I was just going to ask... pretend you didn’t know what I was drawing, what would you think this was?”

The kid doesn’t respond right away, but from his lack of response Bucky knows that he wouldn’t say apple. He starts to laugh, “Damn it, I knew I had no skill, I don’t know how I’m going to get through this class.” 

The kid laughs and then looks at Bucky. It’s the first time he’s really looked and him and for a second their eyes meet and Bucky’s heart stops. The kid’s eyes are bright blue and full of light. Bucky can tell in an instant that he’s the kind of person who can smile using only their eyes. They shine with a spitfire attitude that doesn’t seem to match the rest of his body. It’s as if when God was designing this kid, he placed so much fight in his eyes, he didn’t have any left over for the rest of him. 

Well, shit. 

“I could help you if you wanted,” The kid says quietly, almost as if saying it to himself rather than Bucky. “I’m not a very good teacher, but I think we could get to a point where you can... at least tell it’s an apple.” 

Bucky smiles. “I’d like that offer kid. Name’s James Barnes, but you can call me Bucky, everyone does.” He holds out his hand for the kid.

“Steven Rogers, though I usually just go by Steve.” He returns Bucky’s handshake with a stronger grip than Bucky expects. The two exchange numbers, and Bucky - despite now having a name for the kid - puts his contact name as Art Kid. There was something about him that makes Bucky want to protect him from harm, even though he has a feeling Steve wouldn’t be pleased with that. Doesn’t change Bucky’s mind at all though. 

“I’ve only got two classes on Fridays and they’re in the morning, so we could do something in the afternoon?” Bucky suggests as they start to pack up. He throws his notebook in his backpack lazily, while Steve takes time to pack up his sketchbook and pencils. He takes great care when he puts them in his satchel (he carries around a damn satchel)

“I’ve got a painting class that ends at eleven, so we could meet after that? I can help you draw for a little bit and if you do well enough, maybe I’ll buy you some lunch,” Steve says, through his bag onto his shoulder. 

“It’s a date,” Bucky says, the words exiting his mouth before he has a chance to recover. Steve doesn’t seem to notice, thank the heavens. “I take it you’re an art major?”

“Yup. Don’t know exactly what I want to do with it yet. I’d love to just sit around and paint portraits all day, but you know. ‘That’s not a reasonable career options Steven,’” he says, clearly imitating someone. “If nothing else, I’ll work in the executive department of an art museum. What about you? I take it you’re not an art major?” 

Bucky chuckles. “No sir, I am not. Journalism major here. I like to tell stories but I also like the truth, and I think people deserve to know the truth. I want to be someone people can trust to get reliable information. Everyone deserves to think for themselves, but they also deserve a place that they know they can get trustworthy information that allows them to do that.” 

Steve smiles at this. “Journalism, nice. It’s like you're the the words and I’m the pictures. Let’s write a children’s book together.” 

Bucky laughs at that as they headed out the door. “We’ll see about that. See ya on Friday Steve!?” 

“See ya on Friday, Bucky.”

***

Bucky is sitting outside Room 132 in the Darcy Building, his leg bouncing up and down with nervous energy. It’s already 11:12 and he’s starting to get worried. Steve told him his class ended at eleven and they were all set to meet up. Bucky had even texted him this morning to make sure. It pains him to admit it, but he’s loking forward to this more than he cares to admit. 

Natasha had been texting him about it ever since he had told her, something he regrets. “Finally,” she had said. “I was starting to think you were never going to go on a date again.”

“It’s not a date,” Bucky insisted. “He’s just helping me with this stupid art class.”

“Sounds like a study date to me,” Natasha had said, gliding out of the room with her unnatural grace. 

Even now, Bucky’s phone is buzzing with texts from her, probably demanding an update. Bucky ignores them, not wanting to tell her that he doesn't know where Steve is. He had texted him to let me know he was on his way but he was too anxious to say anything else. It wasn’t like Bucky to get nervous around guys, especially tiny shrimps who he could probably knock over by blowing on him. 

Bucky looks down at the book he’s trying to read, it’s a World War II book about some of the unknown heroes of the war. With a groan, he realizes that he’s read the same page three times without comprehending any of it. Giving up, he sticks the bookmark in - he’s on page 107 - and shoves the book into his backpack. 

Finally giving in, he pulls at his phone. As expected, there are about 10 messages from Natasha demanding updates. Bucky reads none of them and instead pulls of Steve’s tab. Nothing. Bucky slumps up against the wall in frustration. This was a stupid idea. 

He puts away the phone, cringing as it still keeps vibrating. When would Natasha learn to mind her own damn business? He’d turn it on silent but he’s too stubborn to let Natasha win, even if she’d never know. Actually... Bucky feel like she would know, even though he has no idea how. 

But what if one of these new messages was from Steve? What if he was calling off their study session? That’s ridiculous, Bucky tells himself, It was Steve's idea in the first place. 

He doesn’t know what it is about this tiny boy, but Bucky’s heart is pounding. 

It’s not that this is unfamiliar territory for Bucky, this is whirlwind that is crushes and relationships. He hadn’t dated much in high school since most of the guys in his school had been asses and Bucky didn’t want them anywhere near him, no matter how cute they were. He’d gone a few dates in college - mostly just with guys Natasha set him up with - and one serious relationship his sophomore year that had ended because the guy was way more into Bucky than Bucky was into him. They were still on speaking terms though, which was something Bucky was grateful for. He may have liked truth, but he didn’t like change. 

The door opens and Bucky jumps to his feet, throwing his bag over one shoulder as he does. He sees Steve leaving the classroom, a bit of paint smeared across his cheek. It’s a dark red and it almost looks like a cut, except the consistency is all wrong. It’s too thick. Nonetheless, it sends chills down Bucky spines. Something tells him that there’s been real blood there before, with Steve’s fighting spirit and all. 

“Hey, sorry it took me so long. Sometimes I just get so caught up in my work that I don’t realize how much time has passed.” Steve pulls his satchel further up his shoulder, straightening it out. “I probably would have been in there longer if my professor hadn’t told me to get the hell out already.” He laughs as he says this, his whole body shaking as he does so. The laugh ripples through him, evident in every muscle. His nose crinkles as he does so, and Bucky’s heart starts racing again. Bucky laughs with him, hoping he’s hiding the butterflies attacking him.

“You’re the best for waiting for me.”

“Ah well, it’s the price to pay to make sure I pass this class,” Bucky says with a shrug. He plays it off like a joke, but... he really does need to pass this class.

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me your actually worried about passing this class. It’s an entry level art class. Everyone passes.” 

“Well when you’re like me and turn the first three assignments in late and hardly ever go to class, it’s not so guaranteed.”

Steve smiles and it sends those butterflies wild again. Bucky feels like he swallowed a whole fist full the way the nerves are grinding in his stomach. Be cool, be cool, he tells himself. 

“Well what can I say? It’s my only class on Wednesdays because I thought it would make it easier to make myself go. Truthfully, I think my subconscious just wanted a day off.” 

“You remind me of my roommate, Sam. You don’t know how many times I had to yell at him to get off his ass and go to class. How he got into the engineering department is beyond me.” Steve shakes his head, laughing to himself. “Well, I thought I could take you to my favorite place to go sketch., Sstart you on something simple, like a tree.” 

“Works for me,” Bucky says with a smile. He follows Steve down the hall and has this feeling that although he’s known this kid for all of a few days, he’d follow him anywhere.

Steve leads Bucky outside into a small courtyard not far from the Coulson building. It’s hidden enough that Bucky has never been here before, let alone even knew it existed. There’s a little fountain in the center that’s spraying water, a couple of benches scattered about, and as Steve said, lots of trees for Bucky to fail drawing. 

Steve leads him over to the tallest tree in the courtyard. It’s a withered old thing, well past its glory days. Yet, it’s still standing tall, as if daring you to challenge it. No wonder Steve likes it. 

“This is my favorite spot on campus I think. It’s just peaceful and there’s a lot of nature for me to sketch. I don’t usually do pieces on nature but I like to sketch it in my spare time. There’s something calming about drawing it. Plus, I think nature was meant to be sketched, because in the end nature is simple. It’s not some over the top spectacle, it’s just simple.” 

Steve sat down on the ground and motioned for Bucky to sit next to him. Bucky did, moving his backpack to side. Steve reached into his satchel and pulled out a sketchbook. He tossed it to Bucky. “I have so many of these laying around my apartment and Sam keeps yelling at me to do something about it. It’s mostly empty, though there might be a few odd sketches here and there. Just don’t judge me too hard for them.” 

“I could never judge your artwork. I mean yours compared to mine, I don’t have a leg to stand on.” Steve laughed at that, trying to shrug off the compliment. He buried his face in left shoulder, flushing slightly. 

“So see that tree over there,” Steve said, pointing to a lone tree on the other side. “I want you to draw that tree well enough that I can it’s that tree, not just a tree, that tree.”

“Steve you set the bar too high. How in the world am I supposed to do that?” 

“A low bar is only impressive in limbo Bucky. I’ve got to set the bar high or you’re just going to spend the rest of your life drawing apples that no one can tell are apples.” 

Bucky sighed. Steve did have a point. And if nothing else, he did need to pass this class. If only so he never had to draw anything ever again. That was the kind of future he wanted, a future free of stupid apples sitting in stupid bowls. He’d have to find a new way to display fruit since he had a newfound hatred of bowls. 

“I’ll make you a deal. I’ll draw that tree only if you draw that same tree. I want to have something to aspire too.” He stuck out his hand for Steve to shake. 

“Let me at my own condition, no peeking. We don’t show each other our drawings until we’re done. Don’t need you copying my artistic interpretation.” 

“Sounds like a deal to me,” Bucky said. Steve smiled and shook Bucky’s outstretched hand. “Let’s do this. Prepare to see the best tree you’ve ever seen Rogers.” 

“Just try to make it look like a tree Barnes,” Steve said, throwing him a pencil from his satchel. “And no cheating.” 

Bucky takes the pencil and stares at the blank page in front of him. He misses his lined paper from when he’s writing. He’s old fashioned and likes to write out his first drafts when he can before putting them online. It flows more natural for him that way and he likes the lines that keep his work orderly. This pages emptiness scares him. There’s no guiding lines to show him where to start and where to go. He has to take the dive all on his own. 

He glances at Steve - not his paper, he’s not a cheat - but at his face and the way he studies the paper. He can see his mind working at a million miles an hour, likely planning the whole drawing from the beginning. Then, as if someone switches a switch, he starts, no thoughts, no hesitation, it’s almost as if the whole plan has been thrown out the window. He draws with such vigor that Bucky thinks he’s going to rip through the paper if he presses any harder. 

 

“Get started on your tree Barnes, I know you’re not doing anything,” Steve says, not looking up from his drawing. A smile creeps on his face as he says it. Bucky sighs, he know he can’t argue. If he doesn’t start now, he’s never going to.

Tentatively, he makes a mark on the page. It’s a simple line, outlining the left side of the trunk of the tree. It’s light on the page, his hesitancy is evident. It’s a different style than Steve’s confident - or lack of concern for consequences but to each man his own. But it’s his style and that makes Bucky smile. 

Somehow, Bucky gets drawing. It’s not very good, but it’s tree. More importantly, it’s his tree. Somehow, this tree takes on how Bucky feels inside. His hopes for the future but also his fears. His love of the boy sitting next to him, but also the fear that it won’t be returned. It’s trunk is sturdy, unbending to any kind of change, planted in the ground. However as you go up, it’s less secure. The leaves are waving in the wind, still attached to the foundation, but also ready to drop due to the slightest change in the breeze. Somehow, Bucky feels both rooted and unrooted at the same time.

He looks over at Steve, who's still concentrated on his own picture. His back is arched in a way that makes Bucky certain he's going to hurt in the morning. It's then that he realizes that his own back is a little sore and he stretches upward, making a weird noise as he does so. Steve shoots up from his drawing, slamming his sketchbook closed. He moans he rubs his back. 

"You good there buddy?" Bucky asks. "Sorry to have broken your flow."

Steve waves him off. "Don't worry about it. It's a force of habit. I don't like people looking at my picture until I'm ready and I've had too many people creep up on me trying to steal a glance that I'm pretty defensive over my drawings. I forgot you were there that's all." 

"Well, are you finished cause I am and I don't know about you, but I think I've drawn a tree that looks like a tree."

"Wow, what an artist you have become Bucky Barnes. If only I could draw a tree that looked like a tree. Too bad all my trees look like mushrooms." 

"Oh shush now, would ya?" Bucky says with a laugh. "Are you finished enough to show me? If so, I'd like to show you mine first before I lose all of my confidence." 

“Go for it. I can’t wait to see the master’s work.” 

Bucky takes a deep breath and holds out his drawing for Steve to inspect. At first, Steve says nothing, just takes it in. This was a stupid idea, thinks Bucky. His heart is pounding as he watches Steve take it in. 

“Well…” Steve says, pausing, sending Bucky’s heart raising. “I can most defiently tell it’s a tree, so I think today was success. What was different from drawing this tree vs drawing this apple?”

“Well, I put feelings into this tree. It meant something to be as opposed to the stupid apple that just sat there.”

“That’s art Bucky. Find meaning and put it to your paper. It’s not much different than the words you journalists are so find of. Use pictures to show your feelings, but in a way that keeps people from knowing everything.” 

“But I don’t want to hide things from people. People to deserve to know the entire truth, I don’t keep secrets.”

“That’s what they all say,” Steve says with a smile that clearly shows how much he beleives that statement. “But in the spirit of truth, I’ll show you mine.”

He opens up his sketchbook to his picture of his tree drawing. Bucky stares at it for a minute, trying to decide if he’s looking at a drawing or the actual things. It’s so lifelike that Bucky wonders how he ever thought his was good.

“So you know how it was my idea that we both draw the same thing? That was a terrible idea,” Bucky says.

“Oh come on, Bucky. Your drawing has your truth and mine has mine. That doesn’t make one better than the other. That’s the beauty of pictures.”

“Whatever you say,” Bucky says, starting to hand him the sketchbook back. Steve stops him.

“Keep it. Keep practicing, I want you to have drawn something, whatever you want, before our next art class. Now, I’m going to head off to the art studio to work on some projects. I’ll see you on Wednesday, Dr. Fury is going to announce our next project and we can make a plan to work on it. Sounds good.”

“Sounds like a plan. I’ll see you around punk.”

Steve stands and smiles. He throws his satchel over his shoulder and heads over with a little wave, taking Bucky’s heart with him.

***

Bucky sits in the coffee shop waiting for Natasha. They met here once a week to keep up. They’d be doing this since freshman year when. The two of them had met in an English class debating the meaning of some part of War and Peace. Bucky liked her interpretation, cornered her after class, learned that she also had some Russian background and the rest was history. They got along like two wildfires but as long as it was just the two of them, it was all good. 

Bucky sat sipping his chocolate creme frappuccino, with extra whip. Natasha always made fun of him, claiming it wasn’t even coffee it was just a milkshake. She was probably right but Bucky wasn’t going to tell her that. He liked his sugar and he was going to keep drinking it, no matter how many stats about how many days of his life he was drinking away. 

Bucky pulls his phone out of his pocket and glances at the time. Natasha was five minutes late, just like she usual was. Bucky thought about telling her to meet him at 10:55 instead of 11 because maybe then she would actually show up at 11. 

The bell above the door rings and Bucky looked up and there was Natasha, glidling in. Natasha didn’t walk, she glided. She is wearing all black again, her boots clopping with each step. She waves when she sees him, sitting in their booth by the window. 

“What up today Buck?” Nat asks, sliding into the seat across from Bucky. “You ordered my coffee, thank you.”

“Well it’s not hard you get the same thing everytime. Plus I know you well enough not to put sugar in it. For someone who gives me crap about my fraps, you sure do put a lot of sugar in your coffee.” 

Natasha looks up at him, her third packet of sugar empty in her hand. She looks offended for a moment, but then just shrugs. “At least I control my own sugar. You don’t have a clue what’s actually in there.”

“Yes I do, you tell me every week like you think it’s going to make a difference in what I order.” 

“It should,” Natasha pauses for a moment. She smiles which scares Bucky. It’s her get ready for Hell smile. “So, how was your little date this week?”

 

Bucky groans and slides down in his seat. “It was not a date and you know it so I wish you would stop calling it that.”

“But you wish it was a date don’t you? I know you Buck and I can tell when you are whipped for a guy and right now I know you are more whipped than that whip cream on that abomination they have the audacity to call coffee.” 

“I’m not that whipped. Besides, I barely know the guy. Maybe he has some dark and terrible secret. Maybe he’s secretly some government controlled serial killer sent to hunt me down.” 

“Come on Buck, we all know you’d be the serial killer in this situation, especially since you’re friends with me. Plus, from a quick stalk of his instagram, I’m sure this kid couldn’t hurt a fly.”

“You stalked his instagram, how did you even know his last name?” 

“Well you told me his name was Steve and thankfully not that many Steves attend this university. I made my list and narrowed it down to the most likely candidates based on your type appearance wise. Then I went through their pictures. Steve Rogers first picture is of him in front of his artwork at some gallery so I assumed that was your man.” 

“First of all, I want to see this list of guys you think are my type and second, he is not my man.”

“Not yet at least,” Natasha says with a laugh. “You know I could always drop some hints for him if you want. Take your phone, see how he reactions, and then say I’m Bucky friends and I’ll delete the text?”

“Natasha no. When are you going to stop meddling in my relationships?” 

“Hey, who was there for you when you went through that breakup? You would not have survived that without me and you know it. And it wasn’t even that bad of a breakup.”

 

Bucky sighs. She’s right. She’s always right. How is she just always right?

“To answer your question, I am always right and I’m always right cause I’m your best friend and you would be dead without me. Thank goodness we both signed up for that horrid English class.”

“Yeah remind me again why I thought it would be a good idea to take a Russian lit class from a boring, white American old man?”

“It’s about communism, they’re all about communism!” Natasha says in her spot on impersonation of Dr. Slade. “His reaction when he asked me my reasoning and I told him I was Russian is still the greatest thing I’ve seen. I thought he was going to call me a commie and kick me out of class right then and there.”

“I try to give him some slack cause I know he grew up in the cold war but then I remember that he’s teaching a Russian lit class and should probably get his head out of his ass.”  
Natasha laughs. “You’re a riot Barnes. I’m glad something good came out of that class. Just like something good will come out of this art class I’ve listened to you complain about for a semester.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. He thought he was free of this conversation. “What do you recommend I do about it? I’m not particularly excited about wagering my grade. I don’t even know if this kid likes me back and I don’t want to ruin it.” 

“You’ve got to take some chances Barnes or you’re going to end up single, lonely, with a bunch of cats and don’t tell me that’s the future you want. You want to be married, loved, with a bunch of cats.” 

“I do and I’m going to name them Peggy and Shuri and you can’t stop me.” 

Natasha rolls her eyes. “I know better than to try. However, you also know better than to try and stop me so I recommend that you get a move on with this boy of yours. Take it slow for now, but keep having those art study dates and as soon as that class ends, I expect you to make your move. You have no reason to see him after the class ends so if you want to, you better come up with a reason.”

“Fine, by the end of the class I’ll have figured something out. I think I can do that.” 

“Good, now I believe it’s 11:30 which means it time for me to head to my ballet class. That’s something I actually can’t be late to.” 

“I still can’t believe you do ballet. You must be quite the sight.” 

“Keeps me in shape, plus I look pretty damn good in a tutu Barnes. See you next week? Unless something happens, I think I can make room in my schedule to hear about that.”

“Don’t clear it yet, no need to jump the gun. I’ll see you next week with my update.”

“Can’t wait.” Natasha kisses him on the cheek, grabs her coffee and bag and heads out the door, leaving Bucky staring at his half empty “fake coffee” wondering what in the world he was going to do now. 

***

Bucky finds himself unable to wait until class on Wednesday, which is something that he is not used to. Usually he would rather die than go to class and now he feels like he is going to die waiting for class. He texts Steve a little during the week, but it’s hard to start a conversation at first. Then they find out their both from Brooklyn and suddenly they can’t stop. 

Bucky’s getting ready on Wednesday, brushing his teeth while simultaneously arguing with Steve about where the best pizza place is. He can’t believe he has a crush on a boy who doesn’t even have good taste in pizza. Bucky rolls his eyes as he washes his face and sees a string of texts that just consist of Steve yelling at him because Bucky likes pineapple on his pizza. 

“Bucky you don’t understand.” 

“Why would you mix fruit with pizza?” 

“Do you eat fruit with your pasta too?” 

“Pineapples just don’t belong on pizza.” 

“How could you ever think that?” 

Bucky laughs to himself. Steve texts in multiple messages. He says he does it to convey his point but Bucky thinks Steve brain just works too fast and he’s kind of just spitting it out all at once. Especially when he’s angry. Bucky smiles to himself, having thought of the perfect retort.

“Tomatoes are a fruit.”

Bucky swears he can hear Steve scream from wherever he is after that. Class is going to be fun today. 

Bucky waltzes into class with a bright smile on his face. He smiles and says hi to Dr. Fury, who seems surprised but says hello back. Bucky plops down on the seat next to Steve, his whole heart racing. 

“Hi,” he says, honestly not sure what else to say.

“I’m not talking to you,” Steve replies not looking up. His head is buried in his arm so Bucky can’t see it. He looks away, trying to hide the fear on his face. What in the world could have happened? They were texting just fine this morning.

“What did I do?” Bucky asks hesitantly.

“You betrayed me and all of Brooklyn the moment you started defending pineapple on pizza. What are you a monster?” Steve looks up and stares at Bucky, trying to hold a straight face. He lasts about five seconds before he starts laughing. “Ah man, I can’t stay mad at you no matter how hard I try. Though I’m still not over the “tomatoes are a fruit” comment.” 

The fear melts away as Bucky starts to laugh. It fills his whole body as he laughs so hard that tears almost begin to roll down his cheek. He hasn’t felt this happy and light-hearted for a while. “That stupid argument? I’d use to argue with my sister about this same thing all the time. We still can’t order pizza when were together cause we get close to throwing punches.” 

“Well we might have to have the same rule unless you can learn to eat normal toppings. I swear if you tell me you eat it with a fork I will end this friendship right here.”

“I’m not that much of a heathen. I can’t believe there are people out there who are.” 

Steve chuckles. “Thank goodness, I thought I had gotten myself in some real trouble there.” 

A clock starts to chime 10 o’clock and the class quiets down as Dr. Fury stands in front of teh class. “Today we will begin your final assignment. This assignment is worth the bulk of your grade and will replace a final, you’re welcome in advance. However, since this project is basically your final, I expect your best work to be done. I will not go easy in my grading. Your final project is to create a self portrait.” 

Bucky hears Steve chuckle under his breath. No wonder, Steve could probably do a self portrait in his sleep. Bucky remembers him mentioning how he likes to draw portraits, put souls on paper. Bucky, on the other hand, thinks he has much better things to do than preserve his likeness for the world.

“However, this will not be an ordinary self portrait. You will be making an abstract self-portrait. Essentially, it cannot be a drawing of your face. You can use whatever kind of material or symbolism you want, but in the end, the drawing must somehow represent you and who you are as a person. Wanda will be handing out sheets with more information.” 

“Well shit,” Bucky says. He takes back what he says about not wanting to draw himself. At least if he’s drawing himself, he knows what he’s doing. Bucky may love symbolism as a writer, but he likes symbolism in words, not pictures.  
“Well shit is right,” Steve mumbles back. “I don’t have a damn clue what I am going to do and I hate that. This soul searching stuff is bullshit.” 

The TA, Wanda, hands Steve and Bucky sheets with the details for the project. Bucky scans the sheets quickly but what Dr. Fury says pretty much sums it up. It’s a pretty open project except for the fact it cannot simply be a drawing of your face. However, when Bucky sees that photography is an option, his heart lifts a little bit. It’s hard to mess that up. 

“Think I can just come up with some bullshit explanation like this cactus represents me because I’ll stab anyone who gets to close to me,” Steve mutters to Bucky. Bucky responds by moving his chair away which makes Steve laugh. Bucky smiles, he loves it when Steve laughs and he loves it even more when he’s the reason he’s laughing. 

“Well, want to meet up later and do some “soul-searching” so I can pass this damn class?” Bucky says with a smile. 

“Sounds good to me. Why don’t you come over later tonight and we can get started? Sam won’t mind if I have people over, in fact, he’ll probably be shocked.” 

“Works for me. I tend to stay away from my roommates so any excuses to get out of my apartment a little longer is a good plan to me.” 

Steve smiles. “I’ll text you my address after class and you can come over at like 6? We can get Chinese takeout since I am not ordering a pizza with you, you bastard.” 

“Deal.”

***

5:50 rolls around and Bucky’s sitting in his car in the parking lot of Steve’s apartment building. He’s been sitting here for the last five minutes trying to decide how early is “too early”. He always does this. Bucky can’t stand to be late to anything and as a result usually arrives ridiculously early to things. He’s spent a lot of time awkwardly waiting in his car, too anxious to go in, but also too anxious to show up any later.

Bucky groans when he looks at the clock. It’s only 5:55 but he can’t take it any longer. He’s going to go mad sitting in this car thinking about all the things that could possibly go wrong when he goes to Steve’s apartment. He would have invited him over to his place but there were just as many things that could go wrong in that situation. 

Gathering all his courage, Bucky heads towards Steve’s apartment. He lives on the third floor and Bucky opts to take the stairs both to stall a little longer and to attempt to maybe burn off some of his nervous energy. His hand is tapping against his side like he does whenever he’s nervous. His nervous habits show in the extraneous energy that always is trying to escape him.

Bucky arrives at the door, apartment 3107, and knocks, holding his breath. He glances at his watch, 5:57. He realizes that he never told Steve he was on his way since he leaves so early he tends to forget. His foot is tapping now, his nervous energy moving down his body. 

The door is opened by a tall guy, in a red hoodie with a giant falcon on it. He’s leaning against the door frame, a non-expression on his face. He looks Bucky up and down for a moment. “Well would you look at that, Steve’s actually got himself a friend. I’ll be damned.” 

“Yeah I’m Bucky, Steve said it was all right if I came over.” 

“Yeah I’m sure he did,” he turns and hollers down the hall, “without asking me first ya little asshole. But you’re here now so I guess you can come on in.” 

The guy - Sam, Bucky remembers his name is- moves out of the door frame allowing Bucky this o come inside. It’s a basic apartment. Immediately in front of them is a small living area with a couch and a tv sitting on top of a stool, a router laying to the side. To the right, there’s a small kitchen with a mountain of dishes in the skin and some cooking stuff laying over the counter. There’s a plate of cookies sitting next to the bowls. 

“Yo asshat, your friend’s here!” Sam yells down the hallway to the left that Bucky assumes leads to the bedrooms and bathroom. 

“Hey Buck you found us! I’ll be out in one minute and if Sam offers you a cookie, don’t take it if you want to keep your teeth,” Steve hollers form down the hall. 

Sam rolls his eyes. “They’re honestly not that bad. And I wasn’t going to offer one, I have a reputation of being a bad host and I’d like to keep it that way.” 

Bucky looks at Sam quizzically. He can’t decide what to think of him. From the moment he’s walked in, he’s not sure he’s really understood a single sentence that comes out of Sam’s mouth. “Okay, you do that,” Bucky says, heading over to sit down on the couch, not waiting for an invitation. Seeing the look on his face, he lays down on it, his shoes still on and everything.

Sam’s about to retort when Steve walks into the room, hair wet from the shower. He’s wearing a sweatshirt that is much to big for him and it makes him look like a puppy. His hair is sticking up in the front, water dripping down from it. Damn, damn, damn, Bucky thinks. 

Bucky quickly sits up, throwing his feet over the couch. Sam scrolls his face into a more friendly expression as if he wasn’t ready to bite Bucky’s head off a moment ago. Bucky can already tell he softens up in Steve presence; Steve must just have this effect on people. 

 

“Hey Bucky, glad to see you made it. Hopefully Sam hasn’t scared you off yet, he’s not much of a people person sometimes.”

“You flatter me Steve, I prefer to think that I’m not a people person all of the time.” 

He’s right about that, Bucky thinks to himself. He rolls his eyes despite himself. He’s usually not this quick to show him feelings about people but he can’t help it around Sam. Plus, he has a feeling that as long as Steve’s in the room, he’s safe. 

“I hope you two are getting along well. My only two friends in the world, wouldn’t it be something if you hated each other,” Steve says with a laugh.

Sam and Bucky both mumble something under their breath and then look up and glare at each other for a second before Steve notices. What is this guy’s problem?

“Well Sam, you mind if Bucky and I take over the living room to work on our project? We’re going to get Chinese if you want to join in.” 

“Yeah, I’ll text you what I want, I’m going to go watch a movie, don’t bother me,” Sam says, leaving with a wave of his hand.

There’s silence for a moment after Sam leaves. Bucky’s left dumbfounded. He can’t form one single cohesive sentence about Sam other than What the hell. 

“He’s an odd guy but he’s a good one. He seems all hostile and stubborn but I promise that he would be the first to stand up for anyone. You don’t need to worry about him.” 

“Yeah,” Bucky mumbles, not really sure what else to say. He decides to change the topic. “What I do need to worry about however is this dumbass project that going to kill my grade.” 

“Oh come on, it’s not that terrible. I’d rather do this stupid thing than do an actual self portrait. I would hate to have to look at my face that long in order to get it done.”

“Why would you hate looking at your face?” Bucky asks, caught off guard. He studies Steve’s face for a moment and wishes that he could have the chance to stare at it for an extended period of time. He can’t get over his damn eyes, and the way his lip quivers when he’s thinking hard. He loves how you can see his eyes rapidly taking everything in, how you can almost see the painting he’s creating. He loves the little nose crinkle when he laughs, but he hates how he looks away as if he’s trying to hide it. Bucky wishes he didn’t feel like he had to hide anything. 

Steve sighs and Bucky wonders if he went too far, asked a question too personal for their friendship levels. He bites down his lip in worry, hoping Steve won’t notice. 

“I guess it’s just the usual lack of confidence kind of thing, ya know? I look at my face and I can see the sunken cheeks and the way I gasp for breath sometimes. I’m reminded of all those hours spent in bed when I was ill, wondering if I’d ever feel whole again. The bags under my eyes remind of the sleepless nights, kept up worrying or coughing. I guess, I guess I just see everything I don’t want to see.” 

Bucky stares at Steve for a moment, wondering what to say, words rushing through his head. He doesn’t know where to start, how to explain to Steve that that’s not what he sees without giving it all away, without telling him his secret. “Well,” Bucky says, his voice quiet. “I see something else. I see a boy who knows how to keep on fighting, who’s able to defy the odds, and will keep on doing that.” 

Steve smiles slightly. “I appreciate that Buck, I really do. Give me inspiration to start my project.”

“What are you going to do for it?” Bucky asks, curious about what he could have prompted.

“I’m not going to tell you, you’ll have to wait and see till it’s done. But now that I have an idea, let’s get you one.” 

Bucky leans back on the couch and groans. “I don't’ have a clue what I’m going to do. I’m not into this soul searching idea.” 

“If nothing else, do it for the grade. As long as you can sell it, you should be fine. But it’ll be much easier to sell something that you actually believe in. Just start thinking of anything deep I guess.”  
“I could do this project on how much I hate art.”

Steve grabs his chest and acts like he’s been shot. “Oh going in for the kill right off the bat I see. How could you say something like that to me Bucky? Did you forget I’m an art major? I want to hear your reasoning even though I’m going to disagree with everyone.” 

Bucky sighs. “I guess I just don’t like how unclear art is. There’s so much left to interpretation that it can be hard to tell fact from fiction. You don’t know what’s actually there and I don’t like that. Words are so much clearer. As long as you use clear, concise language no one can question what you’re saying.”

Steve laughs at that, a loud sound echoing off the walls. “Bucky have you ever taken an English class? Words are always open to interpretation. They’re simply another way of creating a picture. Your an artist with your words like I’m an artist with my paints. We’re quite similar you and I.” 

Bucky sits up suddenly. An artist with words, it’s a phrase he’s never heard before but he likes it. “What is it Bucky? Did my profound comparison spark an idea for you?” 

“What if, and hear me out Steve, what if instead of doing something with paint, I did something with words? Dr. Fury said we have full freedom in this project.”

Steve raises an eyebrow and Bucky can see the gears turning behind his eyes. “Well I mean it’s not like you can turn in an essay for this project, it still needs to be some form of art.”

“He said we could use photography, correct?”

“I don’t think he said we couldn’t.”

Bucky smiles because for the first time, he feels like he might actually pass this class.

***  
For the next few hours, they lay around tossing out ideas at each other. They keep working and eating and talking and every now and then yelling at Sam. Eventually, Bucky hears a clock chime 10 o’clock somewhere in the apartment. He’s laying on floor, playing catch with himself with a ball he found under the couch. Empty Chinese boxes lay on the floor, and Bucky can hear random sounds coming from the movie Sam is watching down the hall. Steve is hunched over his canvas on the couch, skillfully hiding it from Bucky’s view. 

Bucky glances over at the pile of Chinese food and realizes that they never got around to eating their fortune cookies. He groans as he awkwardly reaches over to grab the cookies. He throws one at Steve, hitting him in the head before it falls onto the canvas.

“We never opened these and did you really order Chinese takeout if you didn’t read your fortune.” 

Steve laughs and sets his canvas down - upside of course. “You read yours first, complete your experience.” 

Bucky smiles. He bites into the cookies, eating half while holding onto the half with the fortune in it. “If you never give up on love, it’ll never give up on you. That’s not even a fortune, it’s just advice, and not even good advice at that.”

“I don’t know, I like it. Something soft about you know. Just think of it as encouragement to hold onto to whoever your crushing on now,” Steve says with a laugh.

Bucky’s hearts starts to race. He couldn’t know, could he? There was no way that Steve could know that his crush sat three feet away from him, smiling at him with that stupid little smile that sent butterflies rushing into his heart. He mutters something, hoping that the conversation with change on its own.

Thankfully it does as Steve cracks open his own fortune. “You have bright things coming in the future.” 

“See! There’s an actual fortune. I like that one too, gives you something to look forward too.”  
Steve laughs for a moment before his face turns serious. “Do you have plans for the future Bucky?”

Bucky sits up, caught off guard by the question. Bucky doesn’t like thinking about the future, so much uncertainty. He doesn’t like what he can’t control and there’s so much in the future that he is powerless over and as a result he usually just chooses not to think about it. “I mean, I’m going to go home, shower, probably watch a little TV, and go to bed.” 

Steve rolls his eyes. “You know that’s not what I meant. I mean for the distant future, like after college and for the rest of your life.”

“I honestly haven’t thought too much about it. I don’t really know what I want,” Bucky says, the lie rolling off his tongue. It’s not true in the slightest. Bucky knows exactly what he wants and that’s to keep this small kid in his life forever, somehow. 

“I don’t really know what I want either. Happiness for sure, but I mean who doesn’t want that? I guess I just want to be able to settle down somewhere, just a small life somewhere I can do art and be with people I love. If I have that, I think everything is working out just fine.” 

There’s silence for a minute as Bucky’s not sure how to respond. Steve yawns and soon Bucky is too. Bucky’s not one for staying out late even if the alternative is going home and watching Netflix til 2 in the morning. He needs that right now, some mindless entertainment to get his mind off of his visions of the future that all have Steve. 

“Well,” he says awkwardly. “I think I’m going to head out, get home before I’m too tired to drive. But I’ll see you soon, we’ll have to keep working on these projects huh?”

“Sounds good to me. Text me when you’re home, I want to make sure you made it all right.” 

“You know I will. And hold on to that fortune, maybe you’ll want to frame it someday.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Only if you save yours. Don’t give up on love just yet Bucky, you do deserve it and I have no doubts you’ll find it soon.” 

Bucky smiles, grabs his stuff, and heads out the door. I hope I already have. 

***  
Later that night Bucky is laying in bed, staring at the ceiling. He has his headphones in, some youtube video playing but he’s long forgotten which one. It’s been on autoplay for a while so somehow he ended up on a video of giraffe eating habits and he’s not really sure how he got here, but here he is. 

He’s a mess and he knows it but he doesn’t know what to do about it. The art kid has stolen his heart and he doesn’t know how to get it back, doesn’t know if he even wants it back. Somehow he is happier when Steve has his heart than he ever was when it was in his own possession.  
His phone rings, snapping him out of his daydream. He sits up sharply as his phone rings loudly in his ears. It’s almost midnight, who in the world would be calling him night now? 

Bucky grabbed his phone and sees Black Widow as the contact name and groans. Of course Natasha’s calling him right now. She doesn’t have much sense of time and it probably never even occurred to her that he might be otherwise occupied at midnight. Then again, she knows him so well she probably knew he wouldn’t be. 

“Whatdoyouwant,” Bucky mumbles into the phone, collapsing back on his back. He’s not in the mood to deal with any of Natasha’s shit today.

“I want to know if your still single or if you’ve taken the leap of faith yet?”

Bucky groans and hides his head under his pillow, as if that will protect himself from Natasha’s questioning. “I’m working on it okay?”

“No you’re not. You are the worst liar I swear. When are you going to ask that boy out?”

“I’m -” Bucky starts.

“You’re not going to. I don’t know why I even asked, I know you. The more whipped you are, the less likely you are to ask, and Bucky I have never seen you this whipped and I knew you when you were 18.” 

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Boys are stupid at 18. I mean they’re always stupid but especially at 18. You should be honored I was friends with you back then, if I had my way I would never associate with an 18 year old male for the rest of my life and I’d be perfectly content.” 

“If you had your way, you would never associate with men period.”

“You’ve got my there, though I do have a soft spot for you Mr. James Buchanan Barnes, even if your name is ridiculous.” 

Bucky scoffs. Natasha and him had been making fun of each others names since their professor first read off the role. They were both blessed with some mouthful of names. 

“So if you marry Steve would you take his name or make him take yours? Or would you do some kind of hyphenated shit? These are important things to think about Bucky.” 

“Marry Steve? Jeez Nat can’t we take this one step at a time.” 

“Do you know me at all? I’ve already named your future children.” 

Bucky rolls his eyes, and he hears Natasha laugh. She knows even if she can’t see him. “Do I want to know?” 

“How about this? You ask Steve out and I’ll tell you, otherwise you’ll just have to sit in agony. If you ask me though, it’s a win-win.” 

“You don’t understand how much I can’t do that though Nat. I like him, I like him a lot. I like him so much that I’m content just being his friend if it means I get to keep him in my life. I can bear his rejection. I can’t stand the idea that he might not feel the same way and I might have ruined a perfectly good friendship over my stupid little heart.”

“Yeah but Bucky, it’s not going to be a perfectly good friendship with the way your feeling. It’s going to be constant agony and no matter how many times you tell yourself you’re fine, you’re not. If he doesn’t return the feelings, then that’s one thing. But then you’ll know and you’ll be able to move on. If you don’t tell him, you’re going to spend the rest of your life wondering what could have been, wondering if you made the biggest mistake of your life. Don’t let Steve be the one that got away. And besides, school’s ending soon, if he doesn’t return the feelings you can always just never see him again. You’re safe.”

There’s silence for a moment as Bucky takes in what Natasha said. He wants Steve, he wants him so bad. He wants him bad enough that if Steve didn’t want him back, he’d be okay with it, he’d be okay with anything that made Steve happy. Made Natasha was right, maybe he should take his chance. 

“I am right and you know it.”

Bucky laughs. “How do you always manage to do that?”

“Because you only stop arguing when you know you’re wrong, it’s endearing about you. Much nicer than people who keep arguing even when they know they’re wrong. So, are you going to ask that boy out?” 

“We’ll see Nat, we’ll see. But I’m considering it more now.” 

“I suppose I’ll take my little victory then. Get some sleep Bucky and keep me updated on what happens. I hope next time I talk to you, you’re not still single.”

“I could say the same for you,” Bucky says with a laugh. 

Now it’s Natasha's turn to roll her eyes. “Keep your eyes peeled for me. Remember, I like blondes and a wit.” 

“A blonde with a wit, I’ll keep my eyes open.” 

“We make a good team Mr. Barnes. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Good night Nat.” 

***  
Bucky and Steve work on their projects for the next few weeks whenever they have a chance. While Steve’s drawing is still hidden, Bucky needs Steve’s help to complete his. He decides to do a photograph of him holding a mask covered in words, while wearing all black. 

“What does this even mean?” Steve asks on the day they decide to take the photos.

“I like to think of it as how I hide before words, behind a screen. I write because I can communicate without actually having to talk to people, to see their reactions to my thoughts. It’s my way of protecting myself.” 

“That works,” Steve says with a nod of understanding. “Hopefully it’s good enough for Dr. Fury, I would hate for you to have to do this project again next year, I don’t think you’ll be able to come up with another idea.”

“If I never have to take another art class, it’ll be too soon,” Bucky says with a laugh. Steve twists his face up in mock offensive. “Thank you for making this one more bearable though.” 

“Of course, it was my pleasure. Now get that mask up, let’s take your glamour shots.” 

They take photos for about an hour before Bucky finds a couple he’s satisfied with. They send them to walgreens to be developed and find themselves sitting in the parking lot of the Speedway across the street, slurpees in hand. 

“How did we even end up with these?” Steve asks, leaning back against the wall, laughing. 

“I don't’t even know. I think my inner three year old saw these and would not be satisfied until I had one.” 

“That’s a mood. I like your inner three year old, even though it has just a terrible food choices as the regular you.” 

“What are you talking about?” Bucky asks, clutching his blue raspberry slurpee close to his chest. He takes a long sip of it and relishes the taste of pure sugar on his tongue. 

“What kind of flavor is blue raspberry? Raspberries aren’t blue and it doesn’t make any sense at all. They might as well call it sugar because that’s basically what it is.” 

“Well yours is all sugar too! Don’t think your all high and mighty because you picked a real fruit. I thought you were supposed to be the artist here. Have a little imagination Stevie.”  
Bucky doesn’t know when or why he started calling Steve, Stevie. It was something that just happened. Steve never complained so Bucky never stopped. He liked the switch they went through, Steve going from Steve to Stevie and him going from Bucky and Buck. He couldn’t quite explain why though. 

“I do have an imagination thank you much! I just prefer to keep it away from my food.” 

Bucky rolls his eyes and sticks his blue tongue out at Steve. Steve sticks his red one out in response and Bucky suddenly wondering what it would be like to create a purple mix. He’s sure it would taste like sugar and warmth, the two colors mixing to form a new, richer one. He shakes it head, trying to clear the thoughts from his head, but suddenly his head is stained with purple.

“So,” he says, trying to save himself, “are you going to let me see your drawing now?” 

“I suppose since we turn them in tomorrow, there’s not much else I can add to it. Just be nice to it, it is supposed to be my soul after all.” 

“Of course I’ll be nice Stevie, I could never be mean to your soul.”

Steve smiles and reaches into his backpack and pulls out the canvas he’s carried around like his child for the last couple of weeks. He hands it to Bucky upsides down, a shy expression on his face for the first time. He’s nervous, Bucky can tell right away, he can see the sweat dripping down his forehead, and it wouldn’t surprise him if he started biting his nails soon. 

“Do it quickly, I can’t bear to see your face,” Steve says, turning away as Bucky flips it over. 

Bucky flips it over tenderly, not wanting to cause any damage to it. It’s a sketch, no colors to be found. It’s well detailed though and Bucky can clearly see that a lot of work was put into it. It’s of an eagle mounted on top of a cliff, it’s wings spread as if it’s ready to take off, but it’s feet still touching the edge. The sky overlooking the cliff is covered in a thick fog, the horizon hidden. Trees popped up out of the fog like thorns blocking the path of the eagle. But the eagle seems determined, neither the fog or trees causing any hesitation to its flight. 

“Steve, this is beautiful,” Bucky says, as he takes in the details of the wings and the way the cliff juts out at you. “I can’t believe you did all this with a pencil.” 

Steve smiles shyly, a blush creeping onto his face. It’s the only time Bucky really sees Steve flustered, when he’s getting a compliment. “Thank you. I like to think of myself as the eagle, a lot of strength and power hidden inside a small body. Something that may not seem intimidating at first, but once you see those claws you run. Meanwhile, the fog represents the uncertainty of my future, there’s so much that’s not clear and there are obstacles, the trees, that are for sure going to try to stop me. But I don’t care, I know I’m strong and I’m ready to take flight into the unknown.” 

Bucky stares at the little eagle and he can see Steve in it, all the determination and fearlessness, ready to take on the world and any challenge it might throw at him. Steve’s the bravest person Bucky knows and he has no doubt that he would follow him anywhere without a second thought. “I love it and I know you have no worries about passing this class.” 

 

Steve nudges him with a laugh. “Neither do you, those photos are going to turn out great?” Steve sighs. “Can’t believe this class is finally going to be over. Got any big summer plans Buck?”

 

“Not really honestly. Hoping to find some kind of internship or summer writing position. Maybe travel a little bit. Who knows? I honestly hadn’t thought too much about it. What about you?”

“I’m going to be working at the MoMA this summer, just a little internship to hopefully learn more. It’s not as fun as I would like since I won’t get a lot of experience creating my own art, but it pays and I should be able to learn a lot. I actually head back home in about week and I am nowhere near packed and ready. I hate packing and I always always put it off to the last minute.”

 

Bucky’s mind begins to race hearing that. Steve, leaving? He can’t believe it’s only a week away. The last few weeks have flown by and Bucky was certain they would never end. Of course Steve is going to do something over the summer, their art class will end and they’ll never talk again. He can hear Natasha’s voice in his head saying Don’t let him be the one that got away. 

“I could help you pack, ya know? If you wanted. I like to pack, it allows me to organize everything and be in control of my stuff. I’m not doing much of anything since my finals are wrapping up and I’m more than willing to spend a few hours helping you.”

“Oh my goodness Bucky that would be the most amazing things! Thank you so much for doing that. I’ll text you with some details about exactly when I have to be moved out but I appreciate it so much. You’re the greatest.”

“It’s not a problem, don’t you worry about it in the slightest. Now let’s go grab my pictures so we can both pass this class.” 

***  
Bucky pulls into Steve’s apartment complex and parks his car with a racing heart. He knows this is going to be one of the last times he sees Steve for a while if he doesn’t get his head out of his ass and do something about it. He’s never been the one to take a leap of faith. But he can’t lose Steve, he’s just can’t and Natasha right, this friendship is going to be unbearable soon because everytime Bucky looks at Steve he just thinks about kissing him and it’s going to take over soon. 

Bucky grabs his phone out of the cupholder and sees that he has a missed call. Confused he opens his voicemail to see one from Steve. His mind start racing through a million scenarios, all of them ending in Steve hating him forever. 

“Hey Buck, it’s me Steve, though I suppose you know that from the caller id hahaha. I had to run out and grab something real fast, but I’ll be there soon. Sam knows you’re coming so he should let you in, but call me if he’s being an ass. I’ll see you soon. Bye!” 

Bucky sighs. Thank goodness his brain was wrong again. Then he realizes that he’s going to be alone with Sam and throws his head against the steering wheel. He doesn’t need to deal with Sam before the biggest decision of his life. Besides, he’s pretty sure that if he spends more than five minutes alone with Sam he’s going to punch him. But Steve likes him and Bucky likes Steve so he’ll suck it up for him. 

With a groan, he heads up to the apartment and pounds on the door, seriously hoping that Sam will open it. He’s not in the mood to deal with Sam’s idiotness today. 

It takes about thirty seconds but right as Bucky’s about to give up the door open. Sam’s in exercise clothes and has that fresh glean of after workout sweat. Thankfully, he seems too tired to be in the mood to argue.

“Hey man, glad to see you haven’t gotten sick of Steve yet. Come on in. The asshole forgot to tell me exactly when he was moving out so I appreciate you being here to help cause I’d kill him if we had to carry all the boxes out to his truck just the two of us.” 

“It’s no problem. I like being useful.” 

“I don’t doubt it,” Sam says, heading inside. He heads to the fridge where he takes a swig straight from the cartoon which causes Bucky to cringe a little. He makes a mental note to not drink any milk, not that he was planning on it. 

“So Steve should be back in about ten minutes and then we can get started. Thankfully most of the stuff is in boxes already so we just really need to focus on loading it up. Shouldn’t be too bad, probably an hour at most.” 

“Oh,” Bucky said, trying to hide his disappointment. He doesn’t really know how to explain that he was hoping that it would take all night, so long that in the end Steve would just decide not to leave. 

But Sam, stupidly observant, catches the drop of Bucky’s spirit. “Oh? You want to spend more than an hour packing up a car?”

 

Bucky knows that he’s not going to be able to come up with a lie that’s convincing enough so he finds himself telling the truth. “Honestly, I’m just not ready for Steve to leave you know? I hate goodbyes so I’m down to put this one off as long as possible.” 

“Ah,” Sam says, nodding as if he understands. But how could he? How could he understand what it’s like to be only an hour from watching someone who could quite possibly be the love of your life walk away. 

“Okay Bucky, I have something to say, but I want to make it clear that I’m not saying this to you because I like you. I quite frankly don’t have a strong opinion on you, good or bad, and I don’t care what you do with your life. However, I do care about Steve, a lot. He’s a good guy and deserves the best, so I’m saying this for his sake. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea and think we’re friends or anything.” 

“Okay?” Bucky says, sitting down on the couch. He’s confused, confused and nervous. He doesn’t know what Sam could possibly say to him. Actually, he does have a few ideas and most of them involve Sam telling him to leave Steve alone because Steve secretly hates him and doesn’t want anything to do with him ever again.  
“There’s no sense in beating around the bush with this. Steve likes you, okay? He likes you a whole hella lot. I’d almost go as far to say he’s hopelessly in love with you, just as hopelessly in love as you are with him.”

Bucky stares at Sam in shock. His mind shuts down and suddenly Bucky doesn’t think he can speak English anymore. He stares for about ten seconds before managing to sputter out a loud, “Excuse me?” 

“Yeah you’re not good at hiding it. Every emotion of yours is written on your face, clear as day Whenever Steve’s not looking at you, you look at a him like a lovesick puppy. Funny thing is, whenever you’re not looking at Steve, he looks at you the same way. If only the two of you would ever look at each other at the same time, maybe we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” 

Bucky doesn’t know what to think or to say. Steve, in love with him? There was no possible way. He was hoping that Steve maybe tolerated him enough to maybe possibly think about going on one date with him but he hadn’t dared wish for more, couldn’t imagine wishing for more. But here was Sam, the guy who lived with Steve and likely saw him more than any other person, telling him that Steve was in love with him. 

“Now like I said, I’m not telling you this because I like you or anything. It’s simply this, out of the two of you, I think you’re more likely to make the first move. Steve’s really good at living in his denial world, though I guess if you haven’t picked up on Steve’s clues then you probably are too.” Sam sighes. “I just want him to be happy and I don’t want him to lose you because I know you make him happy. So just ask him out already? Also I’m seriously sick of the two of you just being stupid and not moving on with it okay? Also if Steve asks, we never had this conversation.” 

“Thank you,” Bucky whispers. He looks at Sam like he’s looking at a different person. For a moment, gone is that annoying asshole who loves to annoy people. For a moment, there’s a soft soul, the soul of someone who understands what it’s like to have a person who will forever be the what if… 

The door bursts open and Steve walks in, carrying a few boxes of pizza. “I hope you haven’t kill each other!” He says with a laugh as the door slams behind him. Sam and Bucky look at each other and nod, mutually agreeing to never acknowledge what just happened. 

“We’ve got one pepperoni and one that’s half cheese and half hawaiian. Bucky you will never know how painful it was for me to pay someone to put pineapple on my pizza so just remember that if you ever think I don’t like you,” Steve says with a laugh as he sets the pizza on the counter. 

Sam and Bucky share a look and Sam nods as if to say I told you so. As Steve opens up the box to indeed reveal a hawaiian pizza, Bucky knows what he needs to do. 

***  
Sam was pretty accurate in his estimate as it does take them about an hour to load up the truck Steve borrowed. It’s harrowing work but it’s balanced out by pizzas and laughter as the three of them work together. Sam’s actually on the nicer side and Bucky finds himself starting to like him more. They work well together when they have a common goal, which Bucky realizes will likely usually involve Steve. 

After they finish, Sam hits the shower and Bucky and Steve are sitting outside in the front of the apartment building, each of them on likely their third water bottle. 

“So that’s it? You’re heading out tonight?” Bucky says, being the first to break the silence. 

“Yup. I’m renting an apartment with another one of the MoMA interns. I don’t know much about him but he seems chill enough. If nothing else, we can always be just people who live together, you know? Don’t need to really have a bond other than that.”

“Yeah that’s how I feel about my roommates. You really got lucky with Sam, he’s a good guy.” 

“Yeah I really did,” Steve says with a smile. “I’m grateful for him.”

The silence returns. Bucky’s heart is racing as he thinks about what he needs to do. He knows he doesn’t have any choose, he can’t leave here without telling Steve how he feels. He looks up at the sunset and he decides that it’s now or never. 

“Hey Steve, you know how I told you that I prefer words to pictures because words don’t lie?”

“Yeah?” Steve says, looking over at him, his confusion written on his face. 

“Well I guess that’s not true. Words can lie just as easily as pictures can, almost more so sometimes I think. You know how you asked me once if I had any plans for the future? Well, I lied.” 

“What do you mean?”  
“I told you that I didn’t have any real plans or any real ideas for what I want. But I do, I know exactly what I want. And what I want is you. I want you in my life and as more than just a friend. Steve, I want to get to know you in every way and have you by my side through everything. I like you okay? I like you a lot, more than I’ve ever liked someone before.” 

There’s a silence as Steve just stares at him. It’s then that Bucky knows he ruined it, he ruined everything. His leap has sent him sprawling off the cliff. Sam was wrong, Steve doesn’t like him back, and he’s just ruined everything. 

“If you don’t feel the same way I totally understand. Your happiness is more important than anything and I don’t want to do anything that would ever-”

“Oh shut up, just shut up. Bucky I like you too. I’ve had a crush on you since the first day you spoke to me in that art class. You think I wouldn’t like you? How could someone not like you? I was going to show this to you today but you beat me too it.” 

He reaches next to him and pulls out a sketchbook. Bucky looks at it confused. 

“Whenever we would draw together, you always thought I was drawing the same thing as you but truthfully I’d spent about three minutes on that drawing and then I started working on something else. I’d like to show you what I really drew.”

He hands Bucky the sketchbook and Bucky gasps when he opens it to find drawings upon drawings of himself. There’s a picture of him furiously sketching a tree, a picture of laying on the couch laughing, one of him throwing that stupid ball up in the air, one of just his profile, and a few more. Bucky stares at Steve in shock.

“Stevie, I don’t even know what to say. I just can’t believe you would-” 

“Oh just shut up and kiss me,” Steve says and before Bucky can say another word, Steve’s lips are on his and his heart is exploding into a million pieces as he gets to taste the purple that taste just as sweet as he expected too. 

And despite his dislike of pictures, this is something Bucky wishes he could have a picture of forever.


End file.
